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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380739">Phantom of the Auditorium</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenhand/pseuds/Greenhand'>Greenhand</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Monster Prom (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, F/M, One Shot, Song Lyrics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenhand/pseuds/Greenhand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An actress at Spooky High is haunted by visions of a mysterious stranger. Something... or someone, is drawing her to the stage...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Vanderbilt/Yellow | Oz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Phantom of the Auditorium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Miranda was certain she was alone. Nobody else knew she was in the auditorium; there was no rehearsal tonight. Everything was deathly silent… the only sound Miranda heard was her own pulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to know. She had been haunted, as of late. Not by a malicious creature, but a vision. A dream she was far too familiar with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miranda could remember them so vividly. Every night, it played out the same. A haunting melody escaping her… singing from inside her. She could not stop it. She could not control it… and the more she sang, the more she felt a presence looming behind her… watching and listening. By the end, the shadows grew long and deep… enveloping her as a face revealed itself to her, if only for an instant. Just recalling it made the mermaid shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Miranda had no earthly idea what possessed her to come here. Was she meant to find closure? Was the one from her dreams real? Would she find him here? What would she do when she had an answer?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped onto the stage, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She had been on this stage before, but never had never seen it like this. Normally, she associated the stage with the warm glow of a spotlight, the thunder of a crowd’s applause… but instead, she found herself lit by the full moon shining through the skylight, and that same ringing quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her back to the curtains, facing the rows of empty seats. There was only one thing she knew how to do here… and the one thing may ease her mind. She started to sing. Sing the only words that meant anything to her right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In sleep he sang to me, In dreams he came</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And do I dream again? For now I find</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Miranda’s slow, soulful melody echoed throughout the auditorium… it sounded different without a microphone or music to accompany her… but like an echo, something returned to her. Something close.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sing once again with me, our strange duet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My power over you grows stronger yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And though you turn from me to glance behind</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt that presence again. The unmistakable aura of a specter… out of sight, but still here. Slowly, Miranda looked behind her. The curtains had parted, just slightly… there was only darkness on the other side, until the masked figure emerged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stories were true. An inky black cloak, as if woven from night itself, and a yellow mask under a hood… one side laughing, the other in grief. This was not Miranda’s first run-in with the Phantom… she had heard him sing before… as did a full house, one fateful summer night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Those who have seen your face draw back in fear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am the mask you wear-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s me they hear.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Phantom suddenly advanced from the dark… almost effortlessly. She had never seen him so close before… it was now she spotted two white eyes, peering from behind the mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your spirit and my voice, in one combined</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Miranda took a step back as his voice matched hers… the two of them shared a song again. He was not out to harm her… no, he only extended a gloved hand to Miranda, hoping she would grace him with a dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She obliged. There was still fear in her heart… but that’s what kept it beating. The Phantom kept hold of her, pulling her close as his other hand met her waist. She could feel his warmth, and perhaps he, hers. The Phantom led her on a waltz… something the two of them kept time in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In all your fantasies you always knew</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That man and mystery-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Were both in you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And in this labyrinth where night is blind”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s here… the Phantom of the Opera.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sing for me.” the Phantom spoke. “Sing, my angel of music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone chilled her to the grave. He was not hostile… but he had gripped her heart with his own charisma. His words commanded, and Miranda obeyed. The melody came forth… the one she knew all too well. Her voice lifted into a wordless aria, pouring right from her heart and soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sing.” He said again, his tone faltering, as if he was growing weak. “Sing for me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miranda continued, despite his grip tightening on her hand. The higher her pitch rose, the lower the Phantom bent, kneeling in front of her as her voice neared the crescendo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the high note rang from her lungs, shaking her soul as the last of her breath echoed into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, the Phantom had dropped to both knees, his grip faltering. Miranda remained silent, stricken with awe as the specter stayed before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the Phantom let go of her hand. “Marvelous. You have never ceased to amaze me, Miranda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long?” She asked. “How long have you been watching me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve known you for quite some time.” He replied. “I’ve just never had the courage before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Courage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Phantom slowly stood. His gloved hands reached upwards, pulling back the hood and the mask. He revealed a head of hair black as night, though it seemed to blend into his shadowy skin. The only features visible to her were those white eyes. Eyes filled with admiration, desire, and even shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… know you.” Miranda began. “You were… a schoolmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He admitted. “My name is Ozwald.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… why come after me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me… scaring you was not my intent.” He answered. “But… when I found you had joined the theatre… I couldn’t help but try to get your attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have feelings for me.” Miranda answered. “Your persona was the only path to see them through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Oz sighed. “But the Phantom and I are too different… I don’t have the charisma without the mask. I am just his shadow now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miranda deftly laid his hand on his cheek. “That’s not true.” She said. “I know there is intrigue deep inside you, mask or no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up to her hand. “I will give you whatever it takes.” He said. “For my angel.” And with that, he summoned a single pink rose. Miranda took hold of it, her gloves protecting her from the thorns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go.” Oz remarked, putting his mask back on. “You know how to find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked past Miranda as she continued to hold the rose. When she finally looked up, he was already gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was alone again. Truly alone. She stepped off the stage, and strolled past the rows of empty seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as this stage has its Phantom, it will have an Angel.” She said, before closing the door behind her.</span>
</p>
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